


Aint no rest for the wicked

by Introverts_Diaries



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Drug Dealing, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, My First Fanfic, Other, except not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 08:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14951354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Introverts_Diaries/pseuds/Introverts_Diaries
Summary: Mateo knew that this day would come. The day that his life ends, and his imprisonment began.





	Aint no rest for the wicked

**Author's Note:**

> sorry this sucks lol. its not even a fanfic, its just a crappy original story

Mateo knew this would happen eventually. He just didn’t know it would happen so soon. He figured he at least had the rest of highschool. But with his family, your freedom was a time bomb waiting for the perfect chance to go off. He tried so hard to put it off, to grasp at what little innocence he had left before he was dragged into the life that he was destined for, no- not life. The imprisonment that he was planned to be roped into since his conception. He thought- he really thought that he could get away from it; graduate as valedictorian and run off to a mediocre college as far away as he could get, but that little bubble was burst the second his father told him they needed to talk.

Mateo had these talks with his dad before, how he should start preparing himself for when his dad needs him to start working, but this time it was different as when his dad led him to the backyard where they had the little talks, he noticed they weren’t alone. Now, on any other day he would be relatively okay as these men had seen Mateo grow up, been there whether Mateo liked it or not, but Mateo knew what they were here for.  
They needed him.

When his dad motioned for him to sit on one of the old and dusty foldable chairs, Mateo saw how his dad’s tear tattoo had been revitalized, a symbol for something Mateo didn’t even want to think about.  
“I think you know why you are here mijo,” his dad said, lighting up a cigarette and taking a, long, slow drag. Mateo refused to meet his eyes, instead letting his gaze linger on one of the few men sitting at a wooden table a few feet away. He always did feel uneasy around Diego, because he was only ever around when they were doing something incredibly important, or something incredibly violent; the two usually went hand in hand in this family.  
“It is about time we get you into the field Mateo. You’re getting older and the longer we wait, the more you will have to catch up on. You are at the same age I was when inherited the cartel from my father.” He paused for a moment to exhale a big puff of smoke, some ash falling onto his grimy tank top.  
Mateo didn’t respond, only shifting his gaze from the patchy grass up to the spot on his dad’s tank top where the ash had fallen.  
“Mijo, this is your future. You need to take this opportunity to build your reputation. Nobody is going to fear or respect a daddy’s boy who never worked for what he got. You have to do this now, or suffer the consequences. After school tomorrow, You will come home, and I am going to take you to your first deal, and you will stay silent and learn. Am I understood?” Mateo could feel his dad’s intense gaze on him, as well as the other four men in the yard.  
“Alright.”

As promised-or threatened, actually, his father was waiting for him when he got home.  
“Let’s go.” With that, his dad walked out the front door, and Mateo dragged himself behind, onto a path that he could never return from.  
The deal went off without a hitch, but Mateo was a ball of anxiety, just waiting for the cops to show up and haul him off to be incarcerated forever.  
“I hope you learned everything you needed to, mijo, because the next deal is in 3 hours. Here is the address,” he hands Mateo a slip of paper, “and the coke is where it always is,” with that, his dad was gone into his bedroom, a room Mateo never dared step foot in in all of his 15 years of life.  
As much as Mateo hated it, he knew everything about the cartel, from the location of the production warehouses to the identities of all police informants that the cartel had amassed over the years. It scared him just how much he knew about a life he wanted nothing to do with, a life that he could never escape from. He remembered with regret the day of his “initiation” into the ranks of the cartel. It was the day after his fourteenth birthday when he had to burn the picture of the Virgin Mary while swearing himself to the cartel. He completed the initiation with shaky hands and a cracking voice. He hoped that he could forget about that day, someday. Hoped he could pretend that he never did it, the child in him hoping he could say he was crossing his fingers and pass it off as no big deal. He should’ve known better.  
He felt all remnants of hope for a better life leave his body when he was done with his first official deal. His dad had never been prouder, but all Mateo could feel was nausea and a sense of pure filth emanating from the very core of his body. He felt disgusted with himself, and wanted to do nothing but curl up into a ball and cry, to have his mother hold him and tell him that it would be okay. But he knew that was wishful thinking; a distant fantasy that would never again happen. Not while his dad was around. As long the shadow of his father loomed, he would never again feel the warmth of the sun.  
Mateo needed to rid himself of the shadow, to wrench himself of the darkness he was enveloped in and step into the light. But as easy as it sounds, it killed him. The thought of his father in a prison cell sent tremors up his body, and it shattered the image of his family being whole again right out of his mind. Cartel leader or not, Luis Medellin was his blood, the man who raised him, but the idea of his father Mateo once had was long gone, replaced with the man he truly was; the greedy man who lusted for absolute power. That is what made calling the police and spilling every secret the cartel had so much easier.  
Maybe this would help stop the cartel.  
Only God could forgive him now, but it was a start.


End file.
